


Birth of Broken Dreams

by Ninkasa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninkasa/pseuds/Ninkasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She always calls him when he's feeling particularly low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birth of Broken Dreams

Sometimes Castiel thought Meg had radar.

No. That wasn’t exactly true. What he meant was that she just seemed to know when he was becoming particularly frustrated or. . .he didn’t want to say vulnerable, but vulnerable seemed to be the only word for it.

And he kept letting her do it. It was as if she thrived on it.

He didn’t know what his excuse was. 

Castiel hesitated for a moment. He always hesitated. Usually after he’d already landed in whatever town, hotel room or backseat she’d told him she was in.

When it was too late to turn around. He should have killed her in Carthage. He should have killed her in that prison. Her very existence went against everything he was created for, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away. And she knew it. She had to realize it. He didn’t believe for a moment that she was only with him for the sex. She could find anyone if that was all she was after.

It didn’t seem to be the case. Castiel wasn’t naïve enough to convince himself that she wasn’t sleeping with others, but it didn’t make sense that she would continually call him.

Except for the fact that she got some sort of pleasure in the fact that he always came whenever she called.

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock, Meg tipped her head to the side, grinning at him as she did so. She was dressed in skirt that barely came down to her thighs and a purple tank top to match. She shifted her weight against the doorframe as she looked him up and down.

“Damn, Clarence,” she said after a moment. “Please tell me the other guy looks worse.”

Castiel frowned at her and then realized that the clothing he was in was still damaged from his previous battle. The wounds had healed hours ago but he’d not gotten around to correcting the suit and trench coat. 

“I would prefer not to talk about this on the sidewalk,” he said. He sounded tired to his own ears. 

Meg nodded and stepped back to let him into the little house she was squatting in. 

Castiel walked in slowly. Someone had died here recently. He could feel the aura, but. . .and here was the thing that he couldn’t understand. It didn’t seem to be by her hand. Someone -- or something, because it didn’t seem to have been a human -- had walked in and massacred this family.

He glanced at her before letting his legs sink out from under him so he could land on the couch. He felt a bit ill from the violence that had taken place here.

Meg shrugged and closed the door behind her. “Tulpas are a bitch to get rid of in this day and age, Clarence,” she said. “The internet makes it hard to sort out what the actual source material is.”

Castiel nodded wordlessly. He’d heard Dean and Sam complain about such things before. They often talked about certain tulpas that they just couldn’t quite work out how to get rid of. 

He’d never heard of a Slenderman or a Rake before he’d started spending time around the brothers and for some reason neither of them seemed inclined to talk about them. Despite the fact that Sam had been keeping track of deaths and disappearances.

Meg wandered over to flop down onto the couch next to him. She seemed a bit wary herself, kept jumping at sounds and glancing towards the staircase as if she expected something to come down the stairs at any moment.

Castiel closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch. “Why do you stay here if it frightens you?” he said after a moment. He didn’t want to give her the chance to bring up the reason for his disheveled-look. He’d lost two of his brothers today, one he’d sent into a battle and one who had died by his own hand. 

He wondered if she’d known that when she’d sent him that text. 

Meg started and frowned at him now. “I’m not scared exactly,” she said, leaning back to match his posture. Her eyes drifted towards the staircase again, he couldn’t see her do either, but he could tell she had. “I’ll just stay down here, it’s fine.” 

She poked at his chest now. “And don’t change the subject, we were talking about why you look like you’ve been through a war zone.”

Castiel opened his eyes now. “Because I have,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “I don’t wish to speak of it further.”

Meg’s mouth opened, probably to retort, but then went closed again. “Well, fine. You don’t want to unload, but you need to talk to someone, Clarence. I don’t think it’s healthy for you to not talk about your little family drama.”

Castiel frowned at her, twisting himself around to where he could see her properly. “Alright, let’s share stories,” he said after a moment. “What happened to the family in this house? There were three children. Where did they go?”

Meg narrowed her eyes at him. He could see her shudder slightly, but she shook her head. “Fine. Keep your damn secrets. But don’t get all morose and depressed. Don’t call me when you think no one wants to help or listen to you, because I tried.”

Castiel lifted his head to look at her now. Really look. She was sitting next to him, her legs folded under her and her hands clasped in her lap. She looked tired and he wondered if she was actually sleeping here.

“Why do you not find somewhere else?” he said again. “Someplace where such violence didn’t occur.”

What violence he couldn’t place from here, but he suspected if he went up the stairs she kept looking at, he’d find out.

He was too tired to do so now. Honestly, he was too tired for any sort of interaction she might be thinking of.

He should never have come here anyway. It was just. . .he didn’t know. It was like he couldn’t stop himself. Balthazar had raised an eyebrow and commented that it was like he was addicted, or possessed. 

But he’d left Castiel alone when his mobile had gone off.

Meg frowned at him now. “I’m not scared of ghosts, Clarence.”

Well, no, he doubted she was. But he also knew -- and so did she -- that the violence had been too recent to not have left some sort of -- Dean would call it -- “mojo” on the house.

It would end up haunted in the future. Whether by the parents who’d died, the children who’d vanished or whatever thing had done the damage.

Castiel shook his head. “What did you want, Meg?” he said. “I will tell you right now, I will not have intercourse in a house where. . .this happened.”

Meg laughed then. “I hadn’t thought of that, Clarence,” she said. “But thanks for the warning.” She shrugged. “No. I -- I just needed the company.”

It would be dark soon.

Castiel didn’t roll his eyes, but he wished he’d picked up the habit, because this was a bit ridiculous, even for her and he often didn’t understand why she behaved the way she did. He’d tried to ask Dean why anyone would want to travel four hundred miles to see a rock concert and Dean had laughed and said that he and Sam had traveled further to see someone called “Ozzy”. 

Dean might not have been the best person to ask.

Balthazar might have been, but that might have meant outright admitting why he was asking and he just couldn’t do it. 

Meg tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at him now. “You didn’t tell me why you’re all torn up,” she said. 

“I thought we weren’t talking about it,” Castiel said, throwing a look towards the staircase for good measure.

“We have to talk about something, Clarence,” Meg said slowly. “So unless you’ve seen any good movies lately or have something interesting to say about the weather. . .”

Castiel sighed. “Things aren’t going well,” he said after a moment’s thought. “And I’m not sure what to do about it.”

It had occurred to him before that he shouldn’t share information with her like this, but at the same time, he didn’t think there was much she could do to him. She’d be suicidal to attempt to share information with Raphael and while he was willing to protect her to an extent, he wouldn’t do so if she betrayed him in such a manner.

And she knew it, because they’d discussed it at length one evening in New Orleans. She’d texted him terrified out of her mind because there had been angels after her. For some reason they’d been following her, but hadn’t attempted to harm her. 

If she’d realized it was because of her. . .affiliation with him, she’d never commented on it. And she clearly wasn’t afraid for her safety when it came to his siblings, or she’d have made him stay away.

Instead she’d texted him the next day with what Dean had said were song lyrics. He really didn’t understand her obsession with music. 

He realized she’d said something he hadn’t heard. Castiel turned his head to look at her. “What?”

Meg shrugged her shoulders. “If you have somewhere better to go, by all means do it.” She eyed him up and down. “But it looks to me like you’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

He had a feeling this wasn’t at all what she’d said. But he didn’t push the matter either. Instead he stood up, swaying slightly. 

Castiel placed two fingers on her forehead, flying them away from the house and landing firmly in an alley several miles away.

It briefly occurred to him that she’d maybe meant for him to leave her there. Too late now.

Meg swayed slightly in front of him as she clearly tried to regain her footing.

“Warn me next time, Clarence,” she said, glancing around them as she did. “I could have gotten my balance first.”

She frowned at him now. “So, now what do you want to do?” 

Castiel returned the frown and then something occurred to him. “You’d meant for me to stay in the house with you.”

Meg shrugged her shoulders. “I meant for you to burn the thing to the ground with the fucker inside it,” she said after a moment. “Now it’s still loose.”

Castiel closed his eyes in a rather human reaction and then opened them again. “Why did you --” He stopped, ran through the argument that would most likely ensue and tried another tactic.

“Why didn’t you start out with that statement?”

Meg shrugged again, heading towards the street slowly. She turned back -- he assumed when she realized he wasn’t following her.

“Come on, Clarence. I’m not standing around in an alley all night.”

He considered not following her for a moment. He thought of just leaving her there and going about his business.

She knew he wouldn’t. That was why she’d stopped.

Just like she knew he would never ignore it when she called him. And he knew he’d never actually stop in answering.

Deplorable or not, they’d gotten comfortable around each other now. Despite the fact that she seemed to go out of her way every single time to do something to annoy, anger or frustrate him.

He fell into step beside her, walking through the crowded city street. Castiel was ninety-five percent certain they were in New York. He’d been going by coordinates and just. . .the feel of her to find where she was, so now he wasn’t sure.

“What exactly did you call me for?” Castiel asked after a moment of just walking. 

He glanced down momentarily and realized belatedly that she wasn’t wearing shoes. And he hadn’t bothered to even think of that before dropping them down in the middle of the city. 

Meg shrugged her shoulders now. “I told you. I wanted you to burn down that house.”

Castiel frowned at this. “You could have done it yourself. Why did you need me?”

Meg shook her head, stopping for a moment to look at a chocolate cake in the window of a bakery. “I figured you’d have more clout than I do. Your methods might be more. . .cleansing.” 

She hesitated for a long moment, then carried on. “And I just didn’t feel like being alone. I was. . .worried that if I left the house the bastard would have followed me.”

Which was why she’d been staying there. She turned now to look fully at him. “He can’t follow us, can he?”

Castiel wanted desperately to ask what “he” was, but he had a suspicion he didn’t want to know. Anything that could scare or unnerve Meg couldn’t possibly be good.

“What were you doing there in the first place?” Castiel decided changing the subject was the best plan. 

Meg grinned at him. “I was trying to track down an old friend,” she said. “But I think he picked up that I was following him. Or maybe he got drawn to the house too. He never had been very smart. Either way, he went inside.”

It was going to be difficult to sort out the notion that Taylor wasn’t going to be there when she called for him. He’d always been there. For she didn’t know how many centuries and meat suits. She’d known him for nearly as long as she’d known her father and Tom.

She grinned at Castiel now. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who tends to pop up as soon as I call.”

Castiel frowned at her. He wanted to make some remark back at this, but she was right and she knew it. Denying it would do him no good whatsoever.

Instead, he said. “If I haven’t heard from you in two days, I assume there’s trouble.” 

Meg grinned and stuck her tongue out at him. “Really? Only two? Your faith in me is overwhelming.” She moved away from the window, walking along slowly. 

“Well, there’s always the chance you’ve lost your phone,” Castiel said, half-joking and half-serious. “Things aren’t. . .safe right now.”

He was constantly worried for Sam and Dean’s safety. Worrying about her wasn’t too far out of his way. 

Meg snorted. “Don’t I know it. I LOVE having angels, demons and monsters on my ass. I’d forgotten how it felt to be popular.”

Castiel was tempted to apologize. At least for the angels. But he felt she wasn’t actually that put out by it. If she’d been having other difficulties since Crowley’s death, she was keeping it to herself. The fact that this was only the second time she’d called him for this form of help verified this.

She wasn’t weak, although her current vessel made him forget that sometimes.

“Besides,” Meg was saying. “It’s not like you call me. How else am I supposed to get your attention.”

She was right. Of course. He never contacted her of his own accord. Not that he wasn’t tempted sometimes. But he just. . .couldn’t do it.

As if his not giving in unless she specifically asked him to made it okay. Took the pressure off him somehow.

It didn’t. But. . .

“You’re correct,” he said. “I don’t -- get in touch.” 

He felt that simply calling her because he was -- she used the word -- “horny” was worse than going to her when she called him for the same reasons.

Which was stupid and he knew it, but still. 

“I have things to do.”

Meg rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah. I know. Family problems. I’ve heard.” She paused. “But that wasn’t the point. My point was that you seem to respond terribly well to being bossed around. You don’t do things of your own accord.” She eyed him up and down now. “Although I think you want to sometimes.”

She stopped on the corner, waiting for the traffic light to change.

“So how do you handle it now that you’re the one giving orders instead of taking them?”

She was right about this too and he knew it. Part of the appeal of being with her was that for awhile he didn’t have to think. Didn’t worry about what was going on in Heaven or with Sam and Dean. 

And he slept, soundly sometimes. Which was something he shouldn’t be able to do. When he’d commented on it, she’d laughed and said it was the result of sex. “Men typically want to sleep after. I promise, I’m not draining you of energy.” Then she’d grinned. “Well, I AM. But it’s different.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if she was legitimately wanting to know or if she was just being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with her sometimes.

After a moment, he responded. “I was created to be a soldier,” he explained. “Everything in me is designed to follow orders.”

He paused for a long time, thinking and to her credit, she didn’t interrupt him. They stood on a street corner in the middle of the night and stared at each other. An angel and a demon. Two sides of a battle that had gone on so long that even standing next to each other without annihilating each other was cause for punishment.

Castiel sighed as the light changed to walk and she kept in step beside him. 

“Free will isn’t all it is touted to be.”

Meg shrugged her shoulders as she moved to jam her hands down in her pockets. Only to realise she was still wearing a skirt and couldn’t. Castiel wanted desperately to touch her legs suddenly, but she was talking and it seemed pertinent not to think such things while in a crowd.

Although now that they were away from that house it was easier to think clearly.

Or not clearly. Depending on the definition.

“I don’t know, Clarence. Isn’t free will what saved the world from burning?” She paused. “I’m still pissed about Lucifer, but it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it.” She grinned at him. It wasn’t really a nice smile.

“Free will is what brought you to me in the first place,” she said. Castiel wasn’t sure if he counted that as a thing in the positive or negative category.

It usually depended on her mood.

“So, you have to think of it like that. Yes, things suck. Yes, it’s difficult. But what about everything you worked to save?” She waved her hand towards the city surrounding them.

Castiel thought about this for a moment, but she kept talking.

“So, you have to make the decision that the things you fought to save are worth it. That they’re worth whatever struggle you’ve got now.” She paused here. “I have to remind myself that if Lucifer had won, there might not be taxi cabs and sushi and movies anymore. No more Tokyo or Prague.”

He understood what she was saying. “I agree with you,” he said slowly. “But I don’t understand why --”

Meg sighed. “You have to make the decision that what you’ve saved is worth it. And if it was, then you’ll find a way to carry on.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at this as she nodded her head towards a group of parents and kids leaving a theater. “Just think. If the world had burned, there might not be a new Pixar movie.”

She turned back to look at him now. “Was that worth saving? I know there’s a lot of bad shit out there. I happen to be one of them. That thing tonight was worse than me. But there are also awesome things that make this world worth being in. Why do you think we try so hard to get up here?” 

Meg shrugged her shoulders now. 

“I know I’m the last person who should be giving YOU advice, but I think you need to stop thinking so much about what you’ve lost and look at what you’ve kept.”

She paused. “Sometimes it’s the only way to keep going.”

Castiel had a feeling she was speaking for herself more than for him, but he nodded anyway, placing his hand gently at the small of her back to guide her across the street.

“I think you may be right.”

Meg grinned now, some of her bravado coming back into her. “Damn right I am.” 

She nodded towards the theater across the street. 

“Want to go see a movie? Reaffirm your existence?”

Castiel glanced at the movie theater and then back at her. He glanced down at her feet again.

“I think perhaps you should put on shoes first.”

Meg looked down now and then looked back up at him. She wrapped her arm around his and started tugging towards the shops down the street. “Okay then. Shopping instead.” She slowed for a moment. “And if you’re really good, you can help me pick out new underwear.”

Meg grinned at him as he opened a shop door for her.

“There, you see?” She said. “You did save something good.”

Castiel smiled back, although it was more at her enthusiasm.

“We’ll count that as one.”


End file.
